


Record-Breaking

by afterandalasia



Category: Monsters Inc (2001), Monsters University (2013)
Genre: Backstory, Canon Compliant, Community: disney_kink, Gen, Pre-Canon, Scaring, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-03
Updated: 2013-09-03
Packaged: 2017-12-25 13:38:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/953737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abigail Hardscrabble, B.Sc., M.Sc., Ph.D. Pushing into new areas of research, reaching for new heights in the Scaring industry, is just part of the job.</p>
<p>Of course, when a challenge comes to her, that does not mean that she is not intrigued by it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Record-Breaking

**Author's Note:**

  * For [disneykinklover](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=disneykinklover).



> Nerd note: this is basically set in late '69, although time references are pretty vague at beast.

"Abigail."

A smile formed on her face at the greeting, and Hardscrabble turned, knowing already who it would be. There were very few in her life who used her first name, and only one who had that particular rough tone. "Bill. How good to see you again."

"And you," said Bill with a nod. Unlike some of the other high-ranking scarers, who held a vague animosity in their interactions with her, Bill Sullivan had never shown any sign of resentment towards Hardscrabble in her position as the top scarer. She respected him for that. "Not your usual hours."

They did not work on the same scare floor most of the time, Henry Waternoose II preferring where possible to spread out his best scarers and ensure a round-the-clock supply of high-quality Scream.

"A special request from Mr. Waternoose," she said simply, knowing that Bill would not press any further. She was surprised, then, when she got any reply at all.

"The boarding school."

Raising her eyebrows, Hardscrabble actually paused for a moment, clicking her pincers. Then realisation dawned, and she inclined her head. "Multiple doors, I presume. In which case I am glad. I would have been concerned were I working with someone with less experience."

Bill gave a grunt in reply, perfectly normal and acceptable from him, and they walked side-by-side through the foyer and down the main corridor. The other employees, even seasoned scarers, parted for them as they passed. Even with her wings folded down, Hardscrabble was rather taller than Bill Sullivan, but where her form was long and sinuous his was broader, roughened with hair and spines, his head set down between his heavy shoulders.

As the corridor gave way to turn-offs for the locker rooms, they parted without comment, and Hardscrabble ducked her head slightly to enter the women's rooms. Her societal position, and her qualifications, meant that outside Monsters Inc. she often wore a jacket, usually red or black to recall her own sorority, but on the Scare Floor it was strongly discouraged for monsters to wear any sort of clothes that might make them seem too familiar to human children.

There were a few other scarers in the locker room, but they scurried out of her way as she swept through, opening her locker and removing today's black jacket to stow it safely inside. Those who knew her -- or more likely knew of her -- would probably be surprised at the number of things in her locker: the copies of school newspaper cuttings from the years that she had captained her teams to victory in the Scare Games, the HSS pin, worn away where she touched it each day (not for luck, she told herself, but for tradition, which was far more important), the large bottle of water and tub of dried frogs' legs which she enjoyed to snack on, even the blacklight powder which she would sometimes dust herself with to encourage her flourescence when scaring. It was all kept very orderly, of course, but was quite a lot to fit into the locker, especially once her jacket was added.

At least now, unlike in her school or university days, her peers were not so childish as to dare each other to break into her locker. She had been known to use quite unpleasant gels as defences in those days.

Today, no-one bothered her, or even spoke to her, with which she was quite content. She simply ate a couple of frogs' legs, brushed down her scales from where travelling through the city had kicked up some dust, and made her way to Mr. Waternoose's office where he had asked to meet her.

Mr. Waternoose was already there, as was his son. Henry Waternoose III was the very image of his father, apart from the grey skin in the place of brown, and five eyes instead of three. His shell was just starting to expand into the roundness which his father already carried, and since working officially at the factory he had also begun to wear the waistcoat and jacket traditional to the Waternooses.

"Ah, Dr. Hardscrabble," said Waternoose Sr. as she entered the room. "Early as ever. I am glad that you were willing to take this on for me."

She gave a slight nod. "You know how multiple-child scares interest me, Mr. Waternoose. I am glad that you invited me."

Waternoose Sr. gave a hearty laugh, slapping his hand against his chest with a thud. "And now all we need is Mr. Sullivan, and--"

With his ever-perfect timing, Bill opened the door, filling it with his frame as he stepped through. Waternoose Jr. flinched slightly, but caught himself before it was too noticeable. Hardscrabble supposed that he still had much to learn.

"And we're ready!" Waternoose Sr. continued, hardly missing a beat. "Come on, then, I've got a private Scare Room set up for this one."

He led them out through the back way of his office, double doors especially for his family's general shape, and down the more private corridors of the factory.

"Now, the good scientists up at the university came across this one. Boarding school, large dormitories, interesting range of children there. That's why I wanted you two on it. We're going to be starting with the largest dorms, twenty girls, twenty-two boys, all seven and eight years old. United Kingdom, southern half. They had some war there or something, when we checked twenty years or so ago," he waved a hand dismissively, "and the building was full of adults, we thought we were going to have to write the door off altogether. But now it's been turned into a school, and we're hoping it will be a good energy source."

"Sounds promising," murmured Hardscrabble. Bill gave a snort which probably meant much the same.

"Indeed. We've got some high-energy cans from the university, and a two-can set-up on the doors so that we can do fast changes if need be. Needed to borrow a few extra can wranglers for this one."

Hardscrabble had to concentrate on her calm aura to avoid rustling her wings in anticipation. Even so, the spine on her tail flicked from side to side as she walked, and she felt herself smiling. Her doctorate in Multiple Child Scare Scenarios had opened up a new area of research at Monsters University, and had helped her advance rapidly through the ranks of scarers after she was hired. A new generation of scares was now being developed in the masters programme which her research had opened up, her former lecturer Prof. Shriek had told her, taking into account the variation between children's fears to ensure maximum scream and minimum crying.

"Scare Floor A is usually closed for this shift, of course," said Waternoose as they took the appropriate branch of the corridor. "But I had it prepared and opened up for this one. Oh, and congratulations, Mr. Sullivan," he added, clapping Bill on the shoulder. It sounded like a carcass hitting a butcher's slab. "I heard from HR."

Bill grunted, and it might have been Hardscrabble's imagination but he seemed to have been caught a little off-guard by the suggestion. "Thank you," he said gruffly. When Hardscrabble raised a brow, he paused uncomfortably but gave a reply. "Beth and I are expecting a child. March."

"Congratulations," she said, warmth seeping into her voice. She had not known that Bill and Elizabeth were dating until she got the invitation to their wedding, and even that had been a small, private affair. On a scarer's salary, they would have been able to afford good doctors to do the calculations, and she made a note to be sure that she had a suitable gift ready for March. Whatever it was that young monsters wanted these days. "Send my best to Elizabeth."

He made a sound of acknowledgement, and Hardscrabble wasn't sure whether to smile or be a little saddened at how close to flustered he looked. Even with the privilege that came from working with one of the high-ranking scarers, he struggled to keep an assistant at his door for long. Hardscrabble had a good understanding with Ida, the quiet young woman who assisted her, and not talking much suited both of them pretty well. Bill was harder to work with, especially if something went wrong and his temper started to run high.

"Anyway." Waternoose clapped his hands, as if he had not started the whole awkward moment. "Doors! We've got one on the boy's dorm -- blue, humans have this strange colour-coding going on, don't ask me -- and one on the girl's. Either of you want to stake a claim?"

Hardscrabble exchanged a glance with Bill, and he shrugged. "I'll take the boys, then, if you don't mind. The development of fears among boys at the moment is interesting. That war seems to have changed matters round."

"One of the research masters is studying that, actually," said Waternoose. They had reached the Scare Floor now; it seemed cavernous like this, lit but with only a handful of figures around the two doors nearest to them. Two can-wranglers on each door, Ida, Bill's current assistant -- Hardscrabble could not keep up with their names -- and a couple of men in formal white jackets which marked them as being from the University research teams. Well, wasn't that something. "Here we are then. Dr. Hardscrabble, you've got the left; Mr. Sullivan, the right."

Hardscrabble nodded a greeting to Ida, who returned it in kind and pushed over the stack of files. To anyone else it might have seemed daunting, but an eidetic memory and an encyclopaedic knowledge of scares made it rather easier to compile the data. She went through them a page at a time, carefully reading all of the information and putting it together. Similar sorts of fears, for the most part, and growing more... almost adult, in a way. Death, darkness, knives, hunger. They weren't the fears that she'd been more used to seeing in her youth. But if the job was changing, then she would simply need to change with it.

But now was not the time for philosophy. Now... there was a door.

"Lights down," said Waternoose, and the lights on the scare floor were dimmed just enough that no glimpse beyond the door would be possible. Hardscrabble and Bill lined up in front of the doors, exchanged a glance and nod, then settled back into their own worlds. Words were unnecessary.

The red light at the top of the door lit; the can wranglers already had the first two cans in place, the trolleys behind them prepped for more. Hardscrabble let her world condense down to that door, to the twenty-two children beyond with screams in their throats that needed to be let loose. Nothing more, nothing less.

She slipped up to the door, opening it in one slow, silent movement. Dropping to the ground, she entered the room and closed the door behind her; safety first, of course. There was a window above every other bed, with thick curtains already closed, and candles at each bedside; heavy wooden beams framed the high vaulted ceiling and stretched across the width of the room.   
At a glance, Hardscrabble counted the figures, one in each bed and all accounted for, and then dropped down to place her hands against the floor as well.

_Clickclickclick._ She let her legs sound against the floor as she slipped beneath the first bed. One of the children on the far side of the room sat up in their bed and pulled the covers around them. The sounds were quite distinctive when you knew them. 

Her wings rustled like leather, and she paused for the gasp that followed. _"Paul?"_ one of the boys whispered. _"Paul, can you hear that?"_

Whoever Paul was, he did not respond. Hardscrabble moved along beneath the beds, pausing under one to run her claws against the underside of a mattress, at another to run the tip of one claw under a conveniently-placed young foot dangling over the bed. It earnt a yelp, and she hesitated for a moment to make sure that it would not trigger a full-blown scream before continuing.

It did not. The children were talking among themselves now, in hushed voices. Some of them were fumbling for their candles, but that of course would not be a judicious move. Reaching the far end of the row of beds, Hardscrabble swept silently up into the darkest corner, spread her wings, and gave one great flap.

The candles puffed out, and there were a few short, tight screams. Not enough, not yet. Dust swirled in the air and curtains flapped, but Hardscrabble was moving again, up onto the high beams where none of them would be looking now. Her eyes were long-accustomed to the darkness, and she could see most of the children huddling in their beds and afraid to lean over the edge, save for a couple of braver ones getting to their feet and starting to head towards the door.

A marble was sitting on one of the rafters; with a cool smile, Hardscrabble reached over and knocked it to the floor. It bounced higher than she would have expected, then trundled away beneath one of the beds.

Baring her teeth, Hardscrabble let out a low, barely-there hiss. There was just a hint of a growl on it, and there was more than one _"What's that? What's that?!"_ from the children beneath her.

Getting close. She could feel the tension in the room, wound tight, as she made her way back along the wooden beams to the one closest to the door. None of the children had quite reached it yet; Hardscrabble swung round, dragged open a curtain to reveal the full silver moon outside, and dropped down to the floor with a thud, and spread her wings fully. She bared her teeth, almost feeling the moonlight on them, and leaned forward towards the nearest of the children. The bravest. In any group, there would be a leader, and the others would be looking to him for what to do in the situation.

He screamed.

It went straight in at a high-pitch, and he collapsed to the floor as she mock-lunged towards him. The screaming spread, and she knew that she would have perhaps a minute, perhaps less, until adults came running. Her wings pulled in, then snapped out again as she made her way back down the aisle through the middle of the beds, sending children scrambling back to their headboards, hearing their screaming build in intensity.

Finally, it seemed, she reached the door again. It had only been minutes, but the intensity, the rush of her heartbeat, had made it feel longer. She drew herself up to her full height and spread her wings to their fullest creaking extent, leant forwards, and _roared_.

It was a low, guttural, almost rattling sound, not with the faster and smoother sound of some of the more mammalian monsters; it had scared even some of her classmates the first time that she had fully let rip. Now it seemed to vibrate the very room, bringing dust down from the rafters, and the children all around her screamed from the depths of their lungs in turn.

She drew her wings down to cover her head, her body, becoming shapeless as she backed through the door again and closed it behind her with a triumphant snap. Successful.

Barely had the door shut behind her when Waternoose was there, pumping her hand and talking at high blustering speed. Hardscrabble frowned for a moment until she plucked out the word _record_ , and then allowed herself a slow smile as she realised that her calculations about when she might reach the All Time Scream Record had been completely thrown out by tonight's endeavours.

"Remarkable!" Waternoose was still saying. "Simply re- _mark_ able! That should be a record-breaker by itself, and no mistake! Now, we'll have to check on the figures of course -- oh, well done Markes, Clawson --" he nodded to the two can wranglers, who were looking shocked and rather tired by their efforts and by the rows of filled cans behind them. "Well done indeed. Marvellous work there, you can expect a small bonus this month. But Dr. Hardscrabble, really, I--"

He was still talking when Bill Sullivan stepped up and gave her a rare -- exceptionally rare -- smile. "Well done, Abigail. Good scaring."

"Your haul wasn't bad either," she replied, with a nod to the lines of cans that had been produced on his side of the room. But in truth, her numbers had outstripped his before this and would probably only be further ahead now. Most scarers would be lucky to get this volume of scream in a shift, let alone in one scare.

He shrugged and huffed. Hardscrabble turned to Waternoose and put one hand on his shoulder, surprising him into pausing for a moment. "Mr. Waternoose, there is one thing which about which I was intended to speak to you. This would probably be an appropriate time."

She started walking slowly towards the door, and Bill fell in behind them. It was not something that she minded him hearing, although she did not particularly want the others in the room to hear. Gossip spread fast around the factory.

"I've had an offer from the university. A tenured position within the School of Scaring."

Waternoose heaved a sigh. "I have considered it an honour that you stayed with us for this length of time, Dr. Hardscrabble. You have proved yourself a leading light of the scaring profession, and if you were to leave I can assure you that you would be sorely missed. If you feel that this is the best thing for you, however..."

"Thank you, Mr. Waternoose. I am still considering the offer," she replied. She patted him on the shoulder again, and for a moment glanced up to meet Bill's eyes. His expression gave away nothing, of course. "We'll... see how things go."

"Yes, yes..." she could hear the distraction in his voice for a moment, then he clapped again and took a deep breath. "Right! Time for a bit of a celebration, I think. A round of toasts, at the very least. Henry!" Waternoose Jr. came scuttling over. "Come on, lad. You should get the chance to talk to these two. Finest scarers in the factory, real pillars of this place. Now, let me tell you about this one time..."

He quickly warmed to his story about a time when Bill Sullivan had accidentally been sent someone else's dead door, and had managed to 'reactivate' it by scaring the child inside to the point of bed-wetting. Quite the high point of the year, as she recalled. Hardscrabble smiled to herself and trailed a couple of steps behind them as they made their way back, allowing herself the satisfaction of a job well done. Somewhere behind her, there was the clang of a can falling over, and Ida cursing out the unfortunate can wrangler involved for such a slight. 

It was a good place here; she would miss it. But... now, there was another door. And she was looking forward to seeing what challenge was on the other side of it.


End file.
